


Sins of the Brother

by WevyrDove



Category: Supernatural, Wincest - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Bad Boy Dean, Blasphemy, Bottom!Sam, Estrangement, Good Catholic Boy Sam, M/M, Priest Sam, Wincest - Freeform, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:31:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4756670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WevyrDove/pseuds/WevyrDove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam are raised as Catholics. When their mother is taken from them by cancer, Dean loses his faith, while Sam finds comfort in it. As Dean struggles through his high school years, his relationship with his father deteriorates, and he leaves home soon after graduation. The next time he comes back to town, Sam is graduating from high school. Dean is shocked to see how much his brother has grown in the few years they have been apart, and finds himself thinking of Sam in inappropriate ways. He tries to push those feelings aside so he can take Sam on the road trip he planned as a graduation gift. But despite Dean’s best efforts, the two brothers end up in each other’s arms for one blissful night of pleasure. In the morning, Sam is gone, and Dean is heartbroken. Years later, they meet again; Sam has become the priest at their old family church, and Dean is determined to resolve the differences between them. Once more, Sam finds himself teetering on the edge of sin, and he must decide whether his own happiness or God’s calling is more important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Confirmation - May 1996

**Author's Note:**

> This is my work for the Wincest Big Bang 2015. The gorgeous artwork was created by [ Mary_Twist ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mary_Twist/pseuds/Mary_Twist) (such a pleasure working with you, dear!). My beta was [cameandgavewithouttaking](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cameandgavewithouttaking/pseuds/cameandgavewithouttaking) (thank you so much, babe!).
> 
> Mary_Twist's art can be found at this [ link ](http://bitchjerks.co.vu/post/128792267396/sins-of-the-brother-written-by-wevyrdove-art-by)

Dean was staring at the floor, focusing on where the sunbeams that filtered through the stained glass; the wood floor was dappled with jewel toned light. He was hanging out in the back pew of the church, present for the first time in years only because it was Sam’s confirmation. He had sullenly refused to dress in a suit despite his father’s angry protests; instead he wore black jeans and a black t-shirt. He saw the disapproving glances when people filed into the church. But Sam didn’t care what he was wearing. He saw his brother flash him a brilliant smile from where he stood at the front, close to the altar. Sam had asked Dean to be his sponsor for the confirmation, but Dean had refused. Technically he met the requirements (over 16 and confirmed), but he didn’t believe in “that crap” anymore. He hadn’t believed for years, not since cancer had taken their mother’s life a few years ago.  Instead their uncle, Bobby, stood at the front with Sam. Dean glanced at his watch. He’d be leaving right after the ceremony; there was a family lunch but Dean wouldn’t be missed. Okay, maybe Sam would miss him, but he would be busy being the guest of honor. Dean would make it up to him later. Their dad would probably give him shit for it, but Dean wouldn’t be back home until late, when John would already be asleep.

There were a couple of other kids getting confirmed the same day, kids that he and Sam had grown up with. Sam was still friendly with them, but Dean didn’t waste his breath on most people these days. His high school graduation was coming up next month, and Dean planned to get out of town soon after that. He had never planned to spend his life in Littleton, Kansas.

Dean focused on his brother at the front of the church. Sam had turned thirteen last week, and he was just starting to edge into manhood, and the kid was growing like crazy. Dean had just shown him how to shave the other day. Now Sam was catching up with Dean in height, and by the time he was done with puberty he’d would probably be towering over his older brother. He looked awkward and skinny standing by the altar, the white suit that he wore a little too short in the arms and legs (it had been Dean’s), making him look even younger. Dean felt a surge of protective affection towards Sam.

Now the priest was anointing Sam with the holy oil, thumbing a cross onto Sam’s forehead. Dean had to smile when Sam ducked his head to make the task easier for Father Maynard, who was shorter than everyone.

“Be sealed with the gifts of the Holy Spirit.” The priest murmured.

“Amen.” Sam replied.

Dean spaced out after that as the rest of the kids took their turns, staring at the colorful light on the floor again. As soon as they did the closing prayer, he ducked out the door.

…

Dean climbed in through the window of their bedroom later that night. He tried to be quiet so Sam wouldn’t wake, but his brother had been waiting.

“Dean.” He said softly. The moon was bright tonight and it slanted over Sam’s bed, revealing Sam’s prone form.

“Hey Sammy.” Dean answered. He was taking his clothes off so he could climb into bed.

“I’m glad you came, even if you didn’t stay for the rest of the stuff.” Sam murmured.

“No big deal.” Dean shrugged, folding over the edge of his comforter so he could get under the sheets.

“Dad was pissed.” Sam added.

“Yeah, I figured.” Dean said. He lifted his pillow and felt underneath for the small velvet pouch he always kept there. “Oh hey, this is for you.” Dean tossed it over to Sam.

Sam caught it and opened it eagerly. There was a rosary inside, wooden beads and a gold plated crucifix. It gleamed dimly in the moonlight. He looked a question over at Dean.

“It was Mom’s.” Dean explained. “She gave it to me a couple of days before she passed.”

Dean remembered how Mary had pressed the chain into his hands, telling him to always keep the faith. Dean had lied and promised he would; he had long given up the faith – ever since they received the prognosis that Mary had stage IV pancreatic cancer. She had just been going to the doctor for what she thought was an ulcer. No one had expected what they had discovered, and how rapidly she would deteriorate after the news. It was as if by naming the cancer, they had sped its course.

Still, Dean kept his mother’s rosary like a talisman. He would worry the beads at night when he was stressed, and it would help him fall asleep, comforted in the knowledge that his mother had held them in her hands once. But when he had wondered what to give Sam as a confirmation gift, he knew it made sense for it to go to his little brother. He swiped his eyes with the back of the hand, trying to push the memory of his mother’s last days away. Sam had only been 7 when Mary had passed, and so he hadn’t fully understood what had happened. To Sam, the assurances from the church that his mother was in Heaven offered comfort where they only made Dean despair more; he had stopped believing in the existence of Heaven around the same time he found out Santa wasn’t real. But Dean never voiced his doubts in front of Sam; during Mary’s fast decline and after her death, he had presented a strong and stoic exterior in front of his brother. In private, he was a wreck, swearing and raging at the God he didn’t believe in anymore.

“Dean..” Sam said reverently. “Are you sure?” Sam fingered the beads, feeling how smooth and worn they were from running through Mary’s hands, as well as Dean’s.

“Hey, maybe you’ll actually use it.” Dean laughed. “Mom would want that.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Sam said gratefully. Dean heard the click of the beads as Sam replaced them in the pouch. “I miss her.” Sam whispered.

“Me too, Sammy.” Dean replied.

They said good night, and Dean lay there awake in his bed, listening to his brother’s breathing deepen and then turn into soft snoring.


	2. Leaving Home - June 1996

The pale pre-dawn light glowed in the window, and the small lamp on the nightstand was on, harsh and yellow, highlighting the shadows under Dean’s eyes. It was two days after Dean’s high school graduation and he was packing. Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, teary eyed and sullen.

“Go back to sleep, Sammy.” Dean said gruffly. He was glad that Sam was awake though. He didn’t think he could have left without saying goodbye.

“Why do you have to go?” he sniffed.

“You know why.” Dean said stiffly, continuing to lob clothes into the beat up suitcase that sat open on the floor.

“I can’t do this without you, Dean.” Sam said, tears starting to well again.

Dean sighed and knelt in front of Sam, gripping his thighs and looking up into his brother’s face. “Yes, you can.” He said firmly. “You can. You’re Sam Winchester and you’re going to be the first in the family to go to college.”

“But I need you.” Sam sobbed, sniffing loudly and wetly.

Dean got up to hand him a tissue, then sat down beside his brother. “It’s better like this. Dad will be happier and you won’t have to listen to us argue. I can get my own place and you can visit. I’ll get a job and save money for you to buy things for school. I already know you’ll get a scholarship.” Dean wasn’t being facetious. His brother was the smartest kid he knew; Sam had even skipped a grade in elementary school.

“But why do you have to move out of town?” Sam whined.

Dean put his arm around Sam, feeling the sharp planes of his brother’s shoulders. He gave him a sideways hug. “I need to be somewhere where people aren’t going to judge me.” He murmured.

“Where I can start again.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Sam protested. He turned his wet face into his brother’s shirt, swiping tears and snot against the flannel.

“You’ll be fine.” Dean assured. “I know it. If there’s one thing I truly believe in, it’s your potential and goodness, Sammy. One day we’ll be looking back at this when you’re at Harvard or something.”

Sam just snuffled unintelligibly into Dean’s chest. Dean pressed a kiss to the top of Sam’s head. His heart ached to leave Sam, but he couldn’t tolerate being in the same house as their father anymore. The other day, John had gone into a rage when he found the cigarettes in Dean’s jacket pocket. Dean had screamed about “minding his own business”. To which John had replied that Dean was his son, and as his parent he had every right to look through his things. Dean had retorted that he was eighteen now and legally an adult, and that John had violated his privacy. At that point John and lost his temper and slapped Dean across the face. It had taken every bit of willpower for Dean not to launch himself at John and pay him back for all the injustices over the years. After Mary had died, John had become an ineffective father, who was often drunk and occasionally cruel to Dean; he was proud of Sam, even if he was neglectful. Still, he had never raised a hand to Dean until today. Dean forced himself to turn and walk out the door, his father still swearing at him, and telling him not to bother coming back.

Dean had already been planning to leave, but now he was going sooner than he had originally planned. He had hoped to save up a little more money from his job at Ellen’s roadhouse restaurant. Luckily, Bobby had already promised him a car on his 18th birthday. It was a 1967 Chevrolet Impala that had been sitting in the garage for years; before Dean had started tinkering with it, it had been a piece of junk. Now the car was almost good as new. He squeezed Sam again and then went back to his task of filling the suitcase with clothes.

“You can have the rest of my stuff. I know you’ll be growing into my clothes before long.” Dean said roughly. He did feel sorry that he wouldn’t be here to watch Sam; he also wondered if John would hurt Sam if Dean wasn’t there as a buffer.

“I want to get out of here before Dad gets up.” Dean said. The light through the window was brightening as sun started to rise. He sat next to Sam again.

“I don’t blame you.” Sam said quietly, leaning into Dean. “I was in the other room. I heard the slap-“

“It won’t happen again now that I’m leaving.” Dean interrupted. He grabbed Sam’s shoulders and turned his brother to face him. “You let me know if he ever does anything to hurt you. I’m coming back to get you if that bastard tries anything.”

Sam nodded, his eyes wide and watery. Dean tipped his head to lean his forehead against Sam’s. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“If not for school, I’d take you with me now. But it wouldn’t be fair to you either. I have no money, and I wouldn’t be able to take care of you.” Dean murmured.

“I don’t care.” Sam said fiercely. “I want to come with you.”

“No, you have to stay, Sammy.” Dean said with finality. “Become valedictorian, get into a good school. Do it for mom. Do it for me. But most of all, do it for yourself.”

Dean squeezed Sam hard, so that his brother huffed a breath out.  “I gotta go now.” He felt the tears prick his eyes as he held Sam’s lanky body in his arms.

“I love you, Dean.” Sam whispered.

“I love you too, Sammy.” Dean said, pressing a kiss to his brother’s forehead.

 Dean swiped his eyes and then picked up the suitcase. He slid the screen in the bedroom window up and pushed the luggage out the window. It landed with a thump in the bushes.

“Goodbye, Sammy.” Dean said, and then he was out the window.


	3. Wish You Were Here - July 1996

Dean had settled down in San Antonio, Texas of all places. It was somewhere he had wanted to visit when he was younger. He had found a job waiting tables at a tourist trap called “The Blazing Saddle” – all the servers had to wear cowboy hats and chaps and speak with a Texan accent. It was ridiculous and vaguely demeaning but the tips were good, and Dean wasn’t above flirting with the customers to make the tips even better. Before he had settled in Texas, he had travelled a meandering route down from Kansas. He slept in the car at truck stops or rest areas, and ate the cheapest thing on the menu wherever he stopped, trying to conserve the small reserve of money he had brought along to get him to wherever he was going.

Dean mostly drove on the quieter roads, but he dropped on and off of Route 66, for portions of Oklahoma and Texas. He visited the “World’s Largest Concrete Totem Pole”. He spent some time at the Route 66 museum, knowing that Sam would have loved it; he chose a postcard that listed a few historical facts about the highway for his trivia obsessed brother. He stopped at Cadillac Ranch to spray paint his and Sam’s initials on one of the half buried cars. He stayed the night in the area, visiting The Big Texan Steak Ranch to conquer “The Texas King”, a 72 ounce steak dinner that was free if you could finish it along with all the trimmings. Dean hadn’t eaten all day in preparation for the dinner, and was just able to stuff it all down; they put his name on the Wall of Fame. When he stopped at these sites, he took pictures using a disposable camera he had picked up on the way, getting it developed at the local one-hour photo once the roll was full.

The pictures made him sad, because Sam should have been there with him. Dean was only in one of the pictures – at Cadillac Ranch – where he had asked a French couple to snap his picture by the spray painted initials. Dean put the pictures in an envelope (the only letter he would mail on his way to San Antonio) and enclosed a short note on a napkin for Sam: _Wish you were here_. He vowed to take his brother on a road trip after high school graduation. John couldn’t say no to that, especially if Dean paid for everything. That would be Dean’s gift to Sam.

During his time on the road, the only communication Dean and Sam had with each other were a couple of brief phone calls, and the postcards and the letter with photographs. There had been no word from his father, either directly or through Sam. Once he had been working for a couple of weeks, Dean had moved into a small studio near the restaurant. The rent was affordable, and with plenty of free food from the restaurant, he didn’t have to spend too much on groceries. On the days he didn’t work, Dean didn’t do much. He’d sleep late, and then run to the store nearby to get some staples; milk, eggs, bread, butter. He’d put together a simple breakfast of eggs and toast and eat it while watching the news. Then he’d shower and take a walk with no particular destination. He liked to people watch, smoking his cigarettes and sweating in the Texas heat. Sometimes he’d go to see a matinee movie, wishing Sam was there too. He hadn’t left behind any friends in Littleton, and he hadn’t made any new ones in San Antonio yet. He was friendly enough with his fellow servers, but he always declined when they asked him to go hang out. There was one girl who worked there that seemed to be interested in Dean; she certainly flirted with him enough. But Dean didn’t want to jeopardize his job, and in any case, he had no interest in a relationship.

Life was simpler this way, no ties and no drama. He was lonely sometimes though, especially late at night. Before he had left home, he had never spent a night away from his brother. Dean missed the chats they would have before going to sleep. There were nights he came home late, long after Sam had gone to bed, but even then, just being in the same room with Sam was a comfort to Dean. When he was spending his nights in the car, it was different, since he wasn’t in a bed or a room. But now it took him a long time to fall asleep without Sam’s presence. He figured he’d get used to it eventually.


	4. Coming Home - June 2000

It had been almost 4 years since Dean had last been in town. Everything was familiar but also strange, like a faded photograph that was suddenly restored to its full and original color. The air was already humid and warm as he drove through town with the windows down; it would be sweltering by midday. He passed Sacred Heart, remembering the last time he had stepped foot inside the church for Sam’s confirmation. He passed the high school and the football field where rows of chairs were set up for graduation this afternoon. As valedictorian, Sam would be giving a short speech to the graduating class and their families. It was the only thing that had convinced him to go back home; Sam had stopped asking him to come back to visit a couple years ago, knowing the answer would always be the same: _soon, Sammy, soon_. The town center looked a little shabbier than he remembered, and the some of the old stores had been replaced by national chains. A few minutes out of the center, he pulled up to Bobby’s house; he was crashing there for one night and leaving early in the morning.

Sam had been living with Bobby since the beginning of the year. Apparently the situation with John had gotten so bad that even Sam had to leave the house. Dean had always been the target of John’s rage and grief, but once he left home, it didn’t take too long before their father started taking his anger out on Sam. Sam escaped by immersing himself in school and extra-curricular activities, but the holidays were always miserable. Last Christmas had been the worst, John hadn’t even bought a present for Sam, and had been so drunk that he had to be taken to the hospital for alcohol poisoning. After that incident, Bobby invited Sam to live with him, and after some half-hearted protests from John (when he was sober he was always apologetic and saw the error of his ways), Sam moved in with their uncle. Now Sam only saw John once a week for dinner, always at Bobby’s place; John’s house had become barely livable from his neglect.

Dean parked in the driveway. There was no sign of Bobby’s truck, so maybe no one was home at the moment. Dean had arrived earlier than they were expecting him. He grabbed his duffle and slung it over his shoulder. When he turned to walk up to the house, someone was already coming out the front door to greet him. Dean’s breath caught as the man bounded up to him. But no, not quite a man, but a boy caught between puberty and adulthood. A tall, long haired, gorgeous boy. Sam stopped just short of hugging Dean, stopping and standing awkwardly in front of his brother.

“Sammy?” Dean gasped, dumbfounded by the fact that his little brother was now taller than him.

“Dean!” Sam replied, and now he relaxed and pulled Dean into a tight hug.

Dean huffed a breath, his hands held out awkwardly as Sam crushed him close. Then he put his arms around Sam’s back and hugged him back. He couldn’t help inhaling; Sam smelled like sweat and grass, and a hint of soap; he smelled like home to Dean.

“Let me look at you.” Dean said roughly, his throat suddenly tight with emotion.

Sam smirked as he stepped back, holding his hands out. Dean flicked his eyes over his brother’s long frame – Sam’s face was familiar; he had sent Dean his school picture every year. But Dean couldn’t tell from those bland two-dimensional portraits with the blue background how much Sam had grown; not just in height and build, but in his demeanor. The Sam that stood before him now wasn’t shy and timid. Instead he was confident and relaxed. Sammy had turned out okay, despite the fact that Dean had been gone and John had been a poor father. Dean felt the ever present guilt bubbling to the surface, the regret of missing these crucial years of Sam’s life. They had stopped talking every week on the phone as Sam became busy with school and sports (he had continued track and cross-country through high school). The phone calls became monthly, and then only during holidays. Sam always sounded resentful and Dean felt immense guilt every time they spoke. But there wasn’t any trace of that resentment right now. Sam was beaming at him.

“You’re all grown up, baby brother.” Dean said lightly.

“Yeah! I’m taller than you!” Sam grinned, and he looked young with the unadulterated happiness that filled his face.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean agreed dismissively. “You’re like an overgrown puppy.”

Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean. Dean looked at him sternly, and then they both laughed. Dean couldn’t stop looking at Sam. His brother was beautiful; he always had been, but again, Dean was struck by the transformation over the last few years. Pictures could never quite capture Sam’s eye-color, and Sam’s expression was always so serious in the portraits. Dean had missed that smile.

“It’s good to see you Dean.” Sam said. “I’m glad you finally came.”

“Me too, Sammy.” Dean replied. “So where’s Bobby?” He asked, as they walked through the front door and no one greeted them.

“He ran out to get breakfast stuff.” Sam answered. “We weren’t expecting you until later.”

“Yeah, I got up early and decided to head out sooner.” Dean explained.

“You’re gonna stay in the same room as me, like old times.” Sam announced.

“Sounds great, Sammy.” Dean nodded, following Sam up the stairs.

Dean couldn’t help admiring his brother from the back. The thin t-shirt Sam was wearing was stretched by his broad shoulders (Dean recognized it as one of his own that he had left behind), and the jeans hugged his ass in such a way that Dean’s eyes were inappropriately drawn to it. Sam led Dean to the guest room – the same room that they had stayed in as kids when Mary had been in the hospital. It seemed so much smaller now, and with the two of them standing in it at the same time, it felt crowded. Dean tossed his duffel on the empty bed; it was the bed closer to the door, just like when they still lived at home. Dean rummaged in his bag for a new shirt; he had been driving for hours and the shirt was sweaty. Dean used the AC sparingly in the car, it didn’t work that well and it was a gas sucker. He automatically shucked off the dirty shirt and was about to put on the clean shirt, when he realized that Sam was looking at him. Dean met his brother’s gaze; Sam’s eyes were the lightest green, flecked with gold and brown. Suddenly the room seemed suffocating, even with the window open and the ceiling fan blowing.

The front door banged open downstairs, breaking the spell, and Sam looked away first. Dean pulled his shirt on quickly, relief flooding his body. A moment later, Dean heard a familiar voice calling.

“Where are you idjits?” Bobby grumbled. “Come help an old man with the groceries.”

Sam bounded down the stairs, Dean following after. Sam went out the front door to get the rest of the bags from Bobby’s truck. Dean found Bobby in the kitchen, putting away the food.

“Bobby!” Dean greeted. The older man pulled him into a rough hug and Dean closed his eyes and let himself be held. Bobby had been much more of a father to him than John had in the years since Mary had passed.

“Dean.” Bobby said gruffly. “Been too long, boy. You look like a proper man, now.”

“You look the same, Bobby.” Dean said with a smile. “Thanks for looking after Sammy.” He added softly.

“Someone has to.” Bobby shrugged. “I get why you had to go, but Sammy has missed you something fierce. I hope you make it up to him.”

Sam came back in the kitchen carrying three bags in his arms which he thumped on the counter.

“Watch it! There’s eggs in one of those bags.” Bobby griped. He looked at Sam and Dean standing together in the kitchen. His expression softened. “If only Mary could have seen you both, what fine men you’ve become.”

Sam and Dean were silent, the mood suddenly dampened with the grief they always carried just below the surface. They both missed their mother fiercely, and felt it most acutely on these occasions, where other children took it for granted that their parents would be there. Bobby cleared his throat. “Sorry. Just struck me how when I last saw you together, Sammy was still shorter than Dean. You were both scrawny back then too. Texas has been good to you, Dean.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Dean said, slightly embarrassed.

“Now shoo.” Bobby said, reaching into one of the bags that Sam had brought in. “Go on. Get settled. I’m making brunch.”

Sam and Dean stepped into the living room and Dean walked up to the fireplace, his eyes roaming over the pictures that Bobby kept on the mantel. There was an old picture of the Winchester family in happier times – Mary and John standing together with their children in front of them, all of them smiling at the camera. Dean felt a pang; it had been taken on one of their last family vacations together before Mary had received her terminal diagnosis. He didn’t have any family pictures with him in Texas. He just hadn’t thought to bring any when he had left home. He’d be sure to try to take one home this time. In the central place of honor, hanging over the mantel, there was a portrait of Bobby and his wife Karen on their wedding day. Karen had died over a decade ago, in a car crash that Bobby still didn’t forgive himself for, even though he wasn’t at fault. It had been New Years’, and on the way home from a party, they had been t-boned by a drunk driver at a four-way intersection. The car had slammed into the passenger side, killing Karen instantly, and leaving Bobby with several broken ribs and shattering the bone in his right leg. Bobby had to have pins placed in his leg, and to this day he still limped slightly on that side. After the accident, Bobby had withdrawn, only finally emerging from his self-imposed isolation when Mary had gotten sick, and the Winchesters had needed support.

“I’m skipping church this morning because you’re here.” Sam groused as he settled on the sofa, stretching his legs out so he took up the entire length. He grabbed the remote and clicked the TV on.

“I can’t believe you still go.” Dean said. What he was really asking was, _I can’t believe you still believe._

“You should go back.” Sam suggested. “It might be different for you, now that you’re older.”

“No thanks.” Dean replied. “No thank you.”

Sam shrugged as if to say, _I don’t care what you do._ But Dean didn’t miss wrinkle on his brother’s forehead that indicated he was upset. Dean sat down on the armchair that was adjacent to the couch. He could understand clinging to familiar rituals as a source of comfort, but he couldn’t see the church being that source for anyone, especially a teenager. Instead the church represented betrayal to him, a feeling of distrust; that no one listened to the prayers, and that was why there was so much bad in the world. That was why their mother had no chance, even when Dean had prayed fervently every night.

Finally, Sam settled on a re-run of Tom and Jerry. Dean smiled, remembering how the episode from childhood. It was the one where the Tom was dressed up as a baby by the little girl. Instead of watching the TV, he let himself look at Sam. He still couldn’t get over how much his little brother had grown. His hands and feet still seemed a little too big for him, making him resemble a young dog that had almost grown into his paws. His exuberance only increased the resemblance. Dean noted Sam’s jawline, wondering when it had lost its boyish softness. _While you were away, that’s when this happened._ Dean reminded himself, regret hitting him hard again. But Sam had turned out alright, more than alright without him here. He wondered if Sam was still as innocent as he had been when Dean had left. He suspected the answer was yes, as Sam laughed at the cartoon; Dean looked forward to giving Sam his first beer, his first joint. He wondered if Sam had ever been with a girl. They really hadn’t talked much over the last few years; as far as Dean knew, all Sam did was study, run track and go to church.

Sam looked up at Dean, a serious look on his face. “I’m going to Stanford.” He blurted.

Dean was taken aback by the sudden announcement; he wasn’t surprised that Sam was going to college, or that the college was prestigious Stanford. What he was struck by was the fact he hadn’t even known that Sam was applying there, and that his little brother hadn’t discussed his post-graduation plans with him. _Well you haven’t really talked for the last few years, and you never asked,_ Dean berated himself. _He doesn’t owe you anything._ He saw that Sam was still waiting for a reaction, while Dean was still staring at him dumbfounded.

“Congrats, Sammy!” Dean said sincerely, recovering from his initial surprise. “I’m so proud of you, man. Stanford, huh?” He felt a pang, knowing that there would be even more miles separating him and his brother. But maybe it would be different, since Dean wouldn’t have to come back home to see him.

“Thanks, Dean.” Sam said somberly. “I hope you’ll come visit.” He added.

“Sure, Sammy, of course I will.” Dean assured him.

“Yeah.” Sam agreed dully, forcing a smile.

They stared at the TV again, both lost in thought. A little while later, Bobby called from the kitchen, announcing that breakfast was ready. They went into the kitchen and sat down.

“You idjits eat. I already did while I was cooking.” Bobby said, putting down plates of eggs, bacon and French toast in front of the two boys. “I’m gonna shower and get ready for the graduation.”

“Thanks, Bobby. It looks so good.” Dean said, grabbing his fork.

“Thanks Bobby!” Sam chimed in.

Dean and Sam dug into their food. It was delicious and Dean was ravenous, having eating nothing but a protein bar and weak coffee at the start of his drive this morning. He washed everything down with coffee and orange juice. Sam was watching his older brother with amusement.

“Wha?” Dean mumbled through a mouthful of eggs.

“Your table manners are just as crappy as before, I see.” Sam noted. “I hope you don’t eat in front of your customers where you work. You’d scare them away.”

Dean glared at Sam and swallowed his food. “Whatever, Sam.” He groused, but with a smile on his face.

“Dad’ll be there of course.” Sam said. “He said he’d be sober. But I’m not counting on it.”

Dean nodded curtly, but didn’t say anything. He was dreading seeing John, but knew it was inevitable at Sam’s graduation.

“We’ll be lucky if he’s only slightly tipsy.” Sam muttered. “I think he’s anxious about seeing you. I hope you’ll be civil.”

Dean shrugged. “If he behaves, I will to.”

Sam sighed. “He’s not doing well, Dean.”

Dean shrugged again. “Not my problem.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Sam said curtly. “You just ran away.”

“It was better for all of you.” Dean said defensively. He really didn’t want to get into this right now.

“You mean better for _you_.” Sam accused.

“Sammy.” Dean said with exasperation. “You really want to start this right now? Look, I’ve already beaten myself up so many times for leaving you alone with Dad, but imagine if I had been around. Me and Dad would probably have killed each other, and I would have been a bad influence. You wouldn’t be going to Stanford.”

“You don’t know that.” Sam shot back. “I would have rather have had you here. I would trade everything for having those years back with my big brother.”

Dean could barely look at Sam. Sam was upset, his eyes teary and accusing. Dean was on the verge of tears himself. He had been a shitty brother to Sam. He grabbed Sam’s hand, his eyes still on the table.

“I’ll make it up to you, Sammy. I swear.” He whispered, squeezing Sam’s hand hard. He looked up at Sam, and the intensity of the hope he saw his brother’s face almost broke him.

“Ok, Dean.” Sam sniffed and offered a wan smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Sam let go of Dean’s hand. They both started eating again. After a few minutes of silence, Dean asked Sam some lighter questions about school and Stanford. Things felt almost normal again. Bobby came down and told them it was their turn to get cleaned up. There was only about an hour and half until show time.

Sam offered Dean the shower first, and Dean accepted, still feeling stale and sweaty from the long drive up. As he went up the stairs, he could hear the plates scraping in the kitchen as Sam and Bobby cleaned up. He heard the murmur of their voices and laughter from Sam when Bobby said something funny. Dean’s heart was heavy with all he missed and from Sam’s accusations. He really would find a way to be part of Sam’s life again. He started wondering if he should move up to California with Sam, to be near him. After all, there were plenty of restaurants everywhere, and Dean had no ties in San Antonio. He couldn’t wait to tell Sam his plan.

Dean went into the bathroom across from the bedroom he was sharing with Sam. He got undressed and eyed himself critically in the mirror, noting that his stubble was coming in already after the early morning shave. He started the shower and stepped under the hot spray, groaning at the soothing sensation of the heat and water pressure. He tried not to take too much time, knowing that Sam still had to get ready. When he stepped out of the shower, he realized he had forgotten to grab a towel.

“Sammy?” He called. He was dripping water everywhere.

Sam opened the door without knocking a moment later.

“Hey!” Dean exclaimed. He made an awkward attempt to cover himself by stepping back into the shower, but he knew that Sam had seen everything. His brother had gaped for a moment and now he was blushing and looking at the ground.

“Uh..you need something?” Sam coughed.

“A towel, dude. Please.” Dean said from behind the curtain. He heard Sam leave the bathroom and come back a moment later, handing a towel to Dean, looking away pointedly.

When Dean came back in the bedroom, the towel slung around his waist, Sam was reading on his bed. They avoided eye contact.

“Shower’s all yours, Sammy.” Dean said.

“Thanks, Dean.” Sam replied. He left the room hastily and Dean heard the bathroom door close across the way.

…

When Dean was dressed, he headed downstairs to find Bobby. He was glad he had packed a nicer shirt, seeing that Bobby had ditched his usual flannel and jeans for a button down and a pair of slacks.

“I gotta go pick up that idjit father of yours and make sure he’s all dressed and ready.” Bobby groused. “You’ll drive Sammy over to school?”

“No problem.” Dean agreed. “We’ll see you over there.”

Bobby grabbed his keys and headed out the door. Dean waited in the kitchen, listening to the shower running upstairs. He couldn’t help replaying the moment that Sam had walked in on him, dripping naked in the bathroom. The expression on his brother’s face wasn’t just one of shock and embarrassment. Sam had definitely flicked his eyes over Dean’s body, and Dean thought he had seen a flash of lust in his brother’s eyes. The idea made his cock stir with interest, and then he wondered why he was having those kinds of thoughts about Sam at all. The few years they had been apart had made them strangers, and Dean had a hard time grasping that this beautiful man-boy was little Sammy.

Dean sat on the couch and waited, flipping through the channels mindlessly, stopping on a re-run of Star Trek. He had good memories of watching the original series reruns with their Dad during better times. He was feeling drowsy when Sam finally came down wearing a suit and carrying his graduation robe on a hanger. Dean sat up.

“Wow.” Dean commented. Sam was even more handsome in the navy suit with white shirt and blue striped tie, and the outfit made him look both younger and older at the same time. “You look great, Sammy. Ready to go?”

“Yes.” Sam nodded. “You look great too. I’m guessing Bobby already left to get Dad.”

“Yeah, he’ll meet us there.” Dean confirmed.

“Alright, let’s do this.” Sam said.

They got into the Impala, wincing at how hot it was inside the car. There wasn’t any point to turning on the AC either, by the time they got to the school, the air coming out would barely be cool. Dean dropped Sam by the field, and then went to park his car in the school lot. He saw some familiar faces, but no one he really wanted to talk to. He wasn’t exactly popular in high school, and the few friends he had growing up he had lost touch with after graduation. He hadn’t even gone to his own graduation, instead opting to pick up his diploma a school a couple days afterwards. Dean had just made it; he had scraped by with C’s and D’s – not because he was stupid, but because he didn’t care, and he skipped class regularly. Now he was back for the first time in four years, and Sammy was the valedictorian. _There, that’s proof that it’s good you left_ , he told himself.

But he didn’t really believe it.


	5. Graduation - June 2000

Dean felt his chest swell with pride as Sam received his diploma, whooping loud and clapping hard from the back row. Bobby had caught his eye when Dean had walked over to the rows of chairs, motioning that he should join him in the second row, but Dean declined, seeing John beside Bobby. He was reminded of the time he had sat in the back pew at church at Sam’s confirmation. Nobody else but Sam really wanted him there, and Dean was only there for Sam. After the diploma distribution was done, there were brief remarks from the principal, and some awards; Sam picked up several here, and Dean beamed and whooped again when Sam walked across the stage again. And then it was time for Sam’s speech, and his brother looked nervous as he stood at the podium. He beamed a brilliant smile though and Dean heard Sam’s voice echo through the speakers as he spoke tentatively into the microphone.

Dean wouldn’t recall the specifics of Sam’s words afterwards; it was the usual spiel about the future and making a difference, missing old friends and going to new places. What would always stay with him, even years later, was the hope and innocence in Sam’s face, the optimism and emotion that radiated from his brother. Sam believed in the things he said in his speech; that the world wasn’t as horrible as it seemed, and that good people could make a difference. Dean hated to think that all of this would be crushed once Sam entered the real world. But maybe it would be better for Sam. Maybe Sam really would make a difference. He was going to Stanford after all; he could become a doctor or a lawyer.

Afterwards, Dean drifted towards the car, avoiding the crowds, and avoiding John. Inevitably, Sam found him at the car, still wearing that bright blue cap and gown and clutching the black folder with his diploma.

“Congratulations, Sammy!” Dean said, stepping up to Sam and folding him into a hug. Sam squeezed back tightly. “That was some speech! I’m so proud.”

“I heard you cheering!” Sam said excitedly. “Thanks.”

Dean released Sam, and then saw that Bobby and John were standing a short distance away. Dean’s smile faded.

“We’re going out to celebrate, want to come?” Sam asked hopefully.

“Um, I’m not sure…” Dean hedged.

“Dean, please. It’s my graduation.” Sam begged. He motioned for Bobby and John to come over.

Dean felt his insides stiffen as he watched his father walk over. He was surprised that John seemed smaller than he remembered. The man had always had such a presence, especially when he was angry with Dean. Now Dean could only see a pathetic, middle aged man, who had a beer paunch and thinning hair. His father’s face was more lined than it had been a few years ago, and his eyes were rheumy and bloodshot. Dean felt himself pitying him.

“Dean.” John said simply. His voice was still the same, gravelly and low. He looked at Dean, a small smile on his face.

“Dad.” Dean forced out.

“It’s good to see you.” John added. “You look good.” John held out his hand. There was a long beat before Dean finally took it and clasped it briefly.

“Thanks.” Dean answered. He shuffled from foot to foot, feeling uncomfortable. He didn’t say what he was thinking, I can’t say the same for you. There was a beat of awkward silence.

“Ok! Let’s get going!” Bobby clapped his hands. “Sam, want to ride with Dean?”

Sam nodded enthusiastically. “We’re headed to Ellen’s. She couldn’t make it to graduation because she’s at work, but she wanted to celebrate with us.”

“See you there.” Bobby said. He and John walked back to his truck.

“Thank you.” Sam grinned at Dean.

Dean grimaced but he figured it couldn’t be that bad, especially with Bobby and Ellen there as buffers. He didn’t quite feel the hate and anger he had four years ago when he left, but he wasn’t ready to forgive John either. Sam pulled his gown off and balled it up, tossing it in the back seat. He put the cap in the back too, and then took off his suit jacket. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt and the sleeves. He rolled the sleeves up and then sat in the car, leaning back and sighing.

“I can’t believe high school is over…” Sam sighed.

“Shouldn’t you be hanging out with friends?” Dean asked, backing the Impala up and getting in the line of cars exiting the parking lot.

Sam shrugged. “Nah, I cleared my schedule for you.”

“Ok..but, you’re going to a party tonight, right?” Dean continued, his eyes on the car in front of him, his hands drumming on the steering wheel.

“Nah. I don’t really like parties.” Sam said dismissively.

“Ok, then what about just getting together with friends?” Dean prodded.

“It’s okay.” Sam assured Dean. “My friends are also spending time with family.”

“Ok, that’s it then. I’m taking you out tonight.” Dean said firmly. “We’ll celebrate together.”

Sam beamed. “Really? Thanks, Dean!’

Dean felt that guilt gnawing at him again. _Well, here’s your chance to make it up. Don’t fuck it up._

…

The parking lot at The Roadhouse was packed. Dean found a spot in the back, and they walked to the front together. When they went inside, the girl at the front immediately led them to one of the function rooms. Inside, Bobby, John, Ellen and several other people that weren’t familiar to Dean were standing around a circular table. There were balloons and streamers, and a banner that read “Congratulations Grads!”

“Surprise!” everyone cried out when Sam and Dean entered the room.

Ellen cried out, embracing Sam tight. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it to the ceremony. The place is busy as heck for our Sunday brunch. Congratulations, kid! You’re amazing!”

Sam grinned. “Thanks Ellen! You shouldn’t have!”

“Dean! Been too long, son. I’m glad to see you made it!” Ellen beamed.

“Me too. Good to see you, Ellen.” Dean answered, letting himself be enfolded in a tight hug.

An Asian boy, a redheaded girl and a scrawny awkward looking boy came up to Sam, embracing him in a group hug with Sam in the middle towering over them all.

“Kevin, Charlie, Garth! I’m so happy you’re here!” Sam beamed.

“Dude! We’re done with high school!” The Asian kid cheered. He looked at Dean and smiled.

“You must be Dean! I’m Kevin.” He offered his hand and Dean shook it.

“Hi Dean! I’m Charlie!” the redheaded girl said brightly, also shaking Dean’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, Kevin, Charlie.” Dean said politely, nodding at them. He was glad to see that Sam did indeed have friends.

“I’m Garth.” The other boy said shyly, also shaking Dean’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, Garth.” Dean said.

“Kevin is going to MIT.” Sam told Dean.

“Wow.” Dean said. “Congratulations, man.”

“Thanks.” Kevin said.

Behind him was a petite woman that must be Kevin’s mother. She too hugged Sam and congratulated him. Dean was introduced to Mrs. Tran, and then Charlie’s parents, and Garth’s parents. Dean smiled politely, feeling out of place. This was a part of Sam’s life that Dean had no familiarity with. He also felt self-conscious when he found out Charlie was also going to MIT, and Garth was going to UC Berkeley.

“So you guys are all nerds.” Dean said jokingly. For a moment no one reacted, and Dean felt like he had put his foot in his mouth. But then everyone laughed, and Dean felt relieved.

“Yeah, especially Charlie, she’s already written her own computer game and she runs this local LARP once a month.” Kevin added, making Charlie bump him with her hip. Dean wondered what a LARP was.

“Yeah says the nerd with the 1600 SAT, 4.0 GPA and first chair in the Youth Philharmonic.” Charlie countered.

“First chair for cello is not that big a deal, it’s not like first chair for violin.” Kevin grumbled. But Dean saw how Mrs. Tran beamed when Charlie rattled off her son’s accomplishments.

Dean wondered what Garth’s credentials were as a member of this geek club. Apparently Garth was their dungeon master when they got together to play D&D. He was also the photographer for the school newspaper, and his work had been featured in the local paper as well. So Sam was the most normal of the group apparently; he was the only athlete, even if it was just track. Still, Dean envied their camaraderie. He had never had that with anyone, except Sam.

As the congratulations continued, Dean hovered around the edges, not making efforts to be social, but always polite when someone asked him questions. He avoided talking to John, despite the glances that Bobby kept shooting him. He was relieved when the food came out and everyone sat down. Sam sat down next to John, and Dean sat on his other side. With the large table, he didn’t have to look at John directly, although if he turned to Sam or Bobby then of course John was right there between them. His father seemed to be behaving himself though. There weren’t any alcoholic beverages at lunch, which Dean was sure was by design, and not only because half the guests were underage. At one point, Dean’s gaze caught with John’s, and his father smiled at him. Dean offered a tight smile in return.

“It really is very good to see you again, Dean.” John said.

“Yeah.” Dean said awkwardly. He couldn’t force the lie out of his mouth so instead he said, “It’s good to be here.” There. That wasn’t untrue. He had missed Sam, Bobby and Ellen, and there had been good memories in this town.  
John looked grateful, and Dean had to look away. Instead he focused on his plate of food, although he found he wasn’t very hungry. He excused himself and went outside.

…

Dean had a half finished cigarette between his fingers when Sam came out looking for him. He dropped it and ground it out but Sam had seen it. He looked disappointed.

“I thought you quit.” Sam accused.

Dean shrugged. “I still smoke sometimes when I’m stressed.”

Sam shook his head. “You still carry them around with you?”

“Nope. Bummed one off someone else who was taking a break.” Dean said. There had been a woman smoking when he came outside, and she had obliged when Dean had asked for one.

“They just brought out a cake, but I wanted you to come back in before they cut it.” Sam said.

“Okay, I can’t say no to cake.” Dean conceded.

They went back inside, and everyone was standing again, gathered around the cake which was set on another smaller table against the wall. The words on the cake read: ‘Congratulations, Class of 2000’. Ellen said a few words and everyone applauded for the four seniors. Ellen started cutting up the cake and Dean helped her by transferring the pieces to plates and handing them out. As he ate his cake, he watched Sam joking and laughing with his friends. It was bittersweet, seeing how Sam really had been fine without him there. Sam looked up at Dean, noticing he was watching and waved him over.

“We were all talking about what we’re doing this summer.” Sam said to Dean. “I mentioned you had promised to take me on a road trip.”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean answered. He was caught off-guard. Yes, he had wanted to do this for Sam, but he hadn’t thought Sam would still be interested. It had been a long time since they had talked about a road trip, although it had been mentioned in passing during a couple of phone calls.

“Definitely, yes.” He added, with more confidence.

He half-listened to what the other kids’ plans were for the summer. Kevin had already secured an internship at a biotech company, and Charlie was doing a bit of backpacking through Europe. Garth would be road tripping in an RV with his parents, making their way to California and then along the coast before finally dropping him off at Berkeley at the end of the summer. He found himself gazing at Sam again, still surprised at how grown up his baby brother was now. He wondered how much time Sam would actually want to spend with him this summer. A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his reverie. Bobby was leaving with John.

“Taking the old man back home.” Bobby said. “You’ll give Sam a ride?”

Dean nodded, and said bye to them, giving his father a nod as they left. Dean wondered how much longer they would be at the restaurant and excused himself again.

 


	6. Promises - June 2000

This time Dean didn’t smoke, but only sat on the step at the side of the restaurant. Sam came out with his friends and their parents. There were a lot of hugs all around. Dean stood and waved awkwardly. Finally it was just him and Sam.

“Where to?” Dean asked.

“I need a nap.” Sam admitted. “And then you were gonna take me out?”

“Yup.” Dean agreed.

They walked to the car, which was sweltering hot after sitting in the sun. Dean rolled the windows all the way down, but again didn’t bother with the useless AC.

“Your friends seem nice.” Dean said idly as they drove towards Bobby’s house. As the car picked up speed, a rush of air blew over their sweaty faces.

“Yeah, they’re great.” Sam said, smiling. Then his expression became somber. “But I know that it won’t be the same in the fall. We’ll all be in different places. Well, Charlie and Kevin will be in the same place, but y’know. It’ll be different.”

Dean shrugged. “It happens. People flit in and out of your life, and that’s okay. Some stay, and some go.”

“And which are you?” Sam asked pointedly.

Dean glanced over at Sam, who was looking at him with plaintive eyes. He looked back at the road and sighed. “I want to stay.”

“I hope so.” Sam said doubtfully, turning to face front again. Dean felt a pang in his heart, knowing that Sam didn’t believe him. And why should he?  
They drove the rest of the way in silence. When they pulled into the driveway, Bobby wasn’t back yet. They got out of the car and went into the house. It was hot inside as well. Sam started going upstairs, and Dean followed uncertainly. Sam went into the small bedroom they would share tonight and flipped on the small AC that was in the window. It was stiflingly hot in the room, and Sam was taking his shirt off, facing away from Dean. Dean couldn’t help but stare as Sam threw the sweaty shirt onto the floor, and then started taking his socks and shoes off. Sam threw those into the corner and then unbuckled his belt. Dean suddenly remembered himself and turned around. He heard the pants fall to the floor too and the soft whump of Sam flopping onto his bed. He turned around to see his brother sprawled out, clad only in his boxers. Sam’s eyes were closed and Dean really shouldn’t be looking at him this way, but he couldn’t help it. Sam was so long and lean; his stomach was flat and his boxers slipping down past his hipbones. Dean could see the trail of hair that went from just below Sam’s belly button down into the waistband of the boxers. His legs were muscular from all the running that he did. His chest and arms were slim but toned. _Jesus, he’s your brother._ So why did Dean want to lick along that trail of hair and downwards?

Sam opened his eyes and smiled at Dean. “Hope you don’t mind if I sleep a bit. I was up too early.”

“N-no, Sammy.” Dean replied. And then he added in an overly bright tone. “Rest up, you’ll need it! We’re gonna party tonight!”

Dean winced inwardly at the words, but Sam didn’t seem to notice and hummed contently, closing his eyes again. Dean backed out of the room and closed the door. Part of him wanted to get in the car and drive back to Texas right now. But the greater part of him wouldn’t let his inappropriate feelings get in the way of making up the last four years to Sam. Dean was determined not to let his brother down anymore.

…

Dean was sitting in front of the TV downstairs, drinking beer when Sam finally emerged. He was still in his boxers but at least he had pulled on a t-shirt. It was past dinnertime, but still light outside in early summer.

“Hey sleepyhead.” Dean said good-naturedly.

“Hey Dean.” Sam said, scratching his stomach.

Dean’s eyes immediately focused on the strip of bare skin when Sam’s hand lifted the shirt slightly. _Stop it._

“Are you hungry?” Dean asked.

“Starving.” Sam answered, flopping onto the couch next to Dean. “Where’s Bobby?”

“He said something about a poker night, and left a little while ago.” Dean answered.

“Oh yeah, he has those once a week.” Sam yawned. “So yeah, food?”

“Burgers?” Dean suggested.

“Yes!” Sam agreed enthusiastically.

“Get dressed.” Dean told Sam.

Sam nodded happily and bounded back up the stairs. Dean chugged the rest of his beer and clicked the TV off. He double checked his wallet to make sure the second ID was there. He had made it the night before he had driven up, using an old license and Sam’s senior picture. It looked decent, although the place he was going to take Sam probably wouldn’t even ask for it. It didn’t hurt to have it though; Dean was determined to take Sam to his favorite dive bar tonight.

…

“Are you sure?” Sam said nervously, as they got out of the car.

“Dude, where do you think I was half the time I came home in the middle of the night?” Dean said easily. “Trust me, they’re barely gonna look.”

Just as Dean said, no one looked at Sam twice when they went inside and sat at the bar. Dean immediately ordered two shots of whiskey and also two orders of bacon cheeseburgers and fries. When the shot glasses were set in front of them, Sam eyed his suspiciously and then picked it up and sniffed at it, making a face. Dean picked his glass up and clinked it with Sam’s glass.

“Cheers. Congratulations, Sammy.” Dean said, and then downed it in a single gulp. He felt the heat of the liquor slide into his throat and chest, and then spread in warm tingly tendrils to the rest of his body. He watched as Sam took a careful sip, grimacing but not spitting it out or coughing. Then Sam took another sip, gulping it down with a shudder.

“It helps if you do it all at once.” Dean suggested. “That’s why it’s called a shot. If you wanted to sip, I would have gotten you a girly drink.”

“Shut up.” Sam said, and then slugged the remaining liquor, slamming the glass down triumphantly when he had gulped it down.

“Not bad.” Dean said admiringly, proud that Sam had not gagged or spit any of it out. “You deserve a beer with your burger.”

Dean signaled for two beers, and Sam was relieved to drink something that was easier to swallow. The burgers came out after a short while, and they both dug into the greasy fare with enthusiasm. Dean kept ordering more beers, and even with the heavy food in their stomachs, they were both somewhat drunk after a few rounds. Dean was more sober than Sam, having more experience with alcohol. He wanted to have a serious talk with Sam, see if he really wanted to go on this road trip, and the bar was too noisy for them to say anything of import to each other. Dean asked for the check, putting down a wad of bills before Sam could protest.

“Hey, my treat. You’re the one we’re celebrating. Plus, I got a job.” Dean grinned.

“Thanks Dean!” Sam said happily.

Dean was relieved to find out that Sam was a happy drunk. Once he had paid, he helped his brother off the barstool. Sam was a little unsteady on his feet, and he had a giddy grin on his face, but otherwise he was okay.

“Where’re we going, Dean?” Sam asked when they were outside.

“Just somewhere I liked to go to look at the stars when I still lived here.” Dean said vaguely.

“Sounds good to me.” Sam agreed. “I feel good, Dean.”

“Good. That’s the point.” Dean said, opening the passenger side door for Sam.

His brother slid in and Dean closed the door. When he got in on the driver’s side, he found a foot on his seat. Sam giggled drunkenly. He was sprawled out and leaning against the car door, his long legs stretched out and invading driver’s seat.

“Get back over to your side.” Dean griped, pushing away Sam’s foot. “Also no feet on the seats!”

“Ok Dad.” Sam laughed and then turned and sat facing front, tucking his long legs away.

“You’re a pain in the ass.” Dean grumbled, but he was smiling.

“You love me.” Sam countered, sticking out his tongue.

Dean grunted in answer and backed the car out of the lot. It was a short drive to where he would be taking Sam.

…

About 10 minutes later they pulled up to the end of a dirt path next to an abandoned farmhouse. The house loomed on the left side of the car, but to the right was an open field of tall grass. Sam squinted out at the darkness. Dean shut off the ignition and headlights. The sound of crickets could be heard as the engine cooled and ticked.

“So um, where are we, Dean?” Sam said uncertainly.

“Get out of the car.” Dean said gruffly. He got out and leaned against the front of the car, looking upwards at the clear sky. The stars were always the same, even if everything else changed. He heard the passenger door open and close and Sam came over to stand next to him.

“Wow.” Sam said.

“Used to come here all the time. Sometimes I was drunk, sometimes high. But a lot of times I was sober.” Dean murmured, remembering how he would lie on the hood of the car and just stare at the stars.

“By yourself?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” Dean answered. “I know, it’s the perfect makeout spot. But I wanted to keep this place to myself.”

Sam giggled when Dean said ‘makeout’ and Dean glared at him, but his brother was still looking  
upwards.

“How many girls you been with, Dean?” Sam asked.

Clearly the mention of ‘making out’ had taken Sam’s mind in that direction, but Dean was caught off guard. He coughed. “Enough.” He answered vaguely.

“C’mon Dean.” Sam whined. “Tell me.”

Dean shrugged. “More than ten. I dunno. I stopped counting.”

“Fine, be that way.” Sam grumbled, and Dean could hear the pout in his voice.

“How about you, Sammy? How many girls?” Dean couldn’t help asking, and although it was meant to be teasing, the question ended up sounding challenging.

Sam was quiet. Dean was about to change the subject but then he heard his brother mumble. “None.”

“Really?” Dean asked, forcing himself to sound surprised. “Nah, c’mon. What about Charlie?”

“Charlie’s gay!” Sam laughed. “But yes, really.”

“Oh, okay, man. I’m sorry.” Dean said sincerely.

They were both quiet for a while, gazing upwards. Dean hopped up on the car hood and leaned back carefully on the windshield, telling Sam to do the same, warning him not to dent the car with his bony ass. They lay side by side in companionable silence.

“I’m just waiting for the right girl…” Sam confessed. “I want to be in love.”

“Geeze Sammy, sound a little more pathetic why don’t you?” Dean snickered. The words came out before he could stop them. “Are you saving yourself for your wedding night?”

“Have you ever been in love?” Sam shot back defensively.

Dean was silent. No he actually hadn’t ever been in love.

“That’s what I thought.” Sam said with satisfaction.

They were both silent again, but this time it wasn’t as companionable. There was a frisson of resentment between the two of them now. Dean wondered what time it was. It felt late, and he was sobering up. He wanted to leave early. He sat up and slid off the front of the car.

“We should go home.” Dean said, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Sam didn’t say anything but also got off the hood of the Impala. Dean had been expecting some sort of protest; but then again, the mood of the night had been dampened. Dean opened the door and slid in the seat, waiting for Sam to do the same. Sam got in after a moment and sighed.

“So you’re just gonna go back to Texas tomorrow morning, and that’s it?” Sam asked, his voice tinged with anger and sadness.

“You’re still welcome to come with me.” Dean said, running his palms along the steering wheel.

“Do you want me to come? Did you really mean it when you invited me on that road trip? Or is it just another empty promise.” Sam cried angrily.

“Yes!” Dean growled. “Stop making me feel worse than I do already. Do you think I haven’t beat myself up all these years?”

Sam didn’t say anything in response. Dean turned to look at his brother but only the gleam of his eyes was visible in the darkness. He heard Sam shift and started when he felt Sam’s sweaty palm against his hand.

“I missed you so much, Dean.” Sam whispered. Dean squeezed Sam’s hand tightly in his. “I really want to come on this trip with you.”

“I want you to come, Sammy.” Dean replied softly. He pulled his hand away and started the car. “Let’s go home so you can pack.”

…

When they got home, Bobby’s truck was in the driveway. Sam told Dean they should be quiet, since Bobby was probably already asleep. It was almost midnight, and although the air was cooler, it was still muggy. They entered the dark house, which was even hotter than outside, and went up the stairs silently. The AC was still running in the bedroom and it was refreshing. Sam stripped off his hot clothes in the dark. Dean did the same, the darkness providing enough privacy for him to feel comfortable about it. Still, he didn’t know why he should feel any discomfort about it in the first place.

“I’m too tired to pack.” Sam said sleepily, lying back on his bed, the springs squeaking slightly.

“Even after that nap?” Dean teased.

“I think it’s the booze.” Sam yawned. “I feel out of it.”

“Yeah, that could do it.” Dean agreed. He was wide awake right now. He sat on the bed across from Sam, feeling hyper aware of his brother’s almost naked body only a few feet away from him.

“Dean?” Sam said drowsily.

“Hmm?” Dean asked.

“I love you.” Sam said softly.

“I love you too.” Dean replied, the back of his throat feeling tight.

He looked over at Sam lying on his bed, his prone figure dimly lit by the streetlight slanting through the blinds. He felt tears prick his eyes, and a bittersweet hope fluttered in his chest. As he heard his brother’s breathing deepen with the telltale rhythm of sleep, Dean made a silent promise; _this will be the best goddamn trip ever_.


	7. On the Road - June 2000

Dean had the route already planned, but handed the guidebook he had bought in preparation for the trip to Sam in case there were other places he wanted to see on the way. This time they wouldn’t be sleeping in the car; Dean had made sure he had enough for food and lodging every day. Dean did all the driving, amusing himself by putting stuff in Sam’s mouth when he fell asleep. One time Dean put some melted chocolate on Sam’s hand and Sam had woken up and smeared it all over his face. After that, Sam was cautious about falling asleep while Dean was driving. Instead he would read the books he had brought along – _The Once and Future King, The Lord of the Rings, Ender’s Game_ , while Dean grimaced and wondered how Sam could read without getting carsick. At the motels they went to, Dean always asked for twin beds. Inevitably though, there finally was a motel where they only had a queen size available. Dean had been dreading this situation; staying in the same room had been hard enough but at least they had some space between them, and Dean was able to push all inappropriate thoughts out of his head. But now they would have to figure something out. It was the evening after they had stopped at Cadillac Ranch, and Dean had tried to find the initials that he had spray painted on one of the cars so many years ago. They had long been painted over by other people though, so they had to write a new set. Dean let Sam do the honors and they had finally gotten their picture together in front of the initials.

“Um.” Dean said when he came back to the car where Sam was waiting. “There’s only one bed in the room. They don’t have any rooms with singles left.”

Sam shrugged, his expression inscrutable under the sunglasses. “That’s fine.”

“Ok. I can sleep on the floor.” Dean offered, reaching into the backseat to grab his duffle.

“Huh?” Sam said confusedly. “Why?”

“I dunno, probably be more comfortable. I don’t want your abnormally long limbs getting all up in my space.” Dean replied.

“Whatever dude. Then I should be the one sleeping on the floor.” Sam said.  
“Nope.” Dean waited for Sam to get out of the car and grab his own bag, and then they both walked over to room 13. Dean unlocked it and they both sighed at the coolness of the air conditioned room. Sure enough, there was only one bed. It was closer to full size than queen size.

They both took turns showering and then walked down the street to eat at the local diner. Dean had a burger and fries per usual, with apple pie a la mode for dessert, while Sam had a grilled chicken salad and no dessert. Dean had stopped making comments about Sam’s rabbit food after a few meals, and Sam stopped telling Dean he was going to give himself a heart attack with all the fat he consumed. They went back to the room afterwards and Sam tucked himself into bed, wearing his usual boxers and t-shirt for pajamas. He was reading as usual. Dean was flipping through the channels trying to find something to watch. After a while, he gave up. They were going to drive a long stretch tomorrow, and it was better to start early to miss the hottest part of the day. He got into his shorts and t-shirt and grabbed the pillow and top blanket off the bed.  
“Seriously, Dean?” Sam griped, putting his book down. “You’re going to sleep on the nasty motel rug?”

Dean shrugged. “The bed’s too small.”

“No it’s not, dumbass.” Sam huffed. “I’ll stay on my side, don’t worry.”

“Pfft. I remember sharing a bed with you as kids and you always ended up on top of me.” Dean blushed when he realized how the words had sounded. He backpedaled hastily. “Um, like, I was at the edge of the bed while you sprawled yourself out like a starfish. And this was when you were half my size!”

“I promise I’ll stay on my side.” Sam repeated. “We can even put pillows between us if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Fine, fine.” Dean said resignedly. He put the pillow and blanket back on the bed. But he wasn’t about to get under the sheets with his brother, and instead lay on top of them. Sam shot him a look like he was being ridiculous but didn’t say anything.

“Good night, Dean.” Sam said, clicking off the lamp on the nightstand.

“Good night, Sam.” Dean replied. He huddled on his side of the bed, wondering how he would sleep.

…

Dean woke in the middle of the night, sweaty and under the blankets. Sam was snuggled up against him, one arm and one leg slung over Dean’s side. Dean could feel Sam’s semi-hard cock pressing against his ass, and he gasped, flinging the blanket aside. He pushed Sam away gently, and his brother merely turned without waking, muttering slightly in his sleep. I really should move to the floor. Instead, Dean found himself moving as if in a dream. He curled his body around Sam’s, wrapping one arm around his brother’s chest and pulling him flush against him. Sam was so warm, and also sweaty. Dean buried his nose in the nape of Sam’s neck, the strands of hair tickling him. He inhaled deeply, breathing in Sam’s scent. His cock was stiff and aching as he pressed against Sam’s ass. It was so wrong, but it also felt so right. Dean pressed his lips against Sam’s hot skin, his hand wandering and reaching under Sam’s shirt to feel the taut planes of his stomach. Sam murmured wordlessly, and Dean thought maybe he should wake him. He was taking advantage of his brother. Dean let his tongue dart out to taste Sam’s skin, reaching up higher under Sam’s shirt to brush his thumb against Sam’s nipple. His brother moaned softly when Dean kneaded it between his fingers. Dean felt Sam pressing back against him now and Dean rutted up against him, wishing the layers of clothing weren’t in the way.

“Sam.” Dean panted, his lips against Sam’s ear. “Wake up Sammy.”

“Mmmmm.” Sam hummed.

Dean reached down and snuck his hand under the waistband of Sam’s boxers. He grasped Sam’s hard, hot cock, and groaned at the size of it. Sam shifted under Dean’s touch, moaning softly.

“Sammy, you really need to wake up now.” Dean gasped, while he continued to press himself against Sam, still gripping his brother’s cock.

“Dean…” Sam moaned. “Don’t stop.”

Dean moaned in response. He had Sam’s consent and there was no turning back now. He started to stroke Sam softly, but his brother turned to face him. Sam’s eyes were open and they glinted in the dark. Dean wished he could see his brother in the light but he didn’t want to break the spell. He felt that this was something that would only ever happen in the dark of night under the pretense of sleep. Sam’s lips touched Dean’s and then they were kissing, and Dean wasn’t thinking anymore. Dean nipped and licked at Sam’s lips and his brother opened for him and then their tongues were pressing against each other. Dean reached down again to grip Sam, wetting his thumb in the precum that had gathered at the slit.

“Oh Sammy…” Dean moaned into his brother’s mouth.

“Dean!” Sam panted, gripping his brother’s shoulders as Dean worked him.

Dean spat into his palm to slick up his hand and slid it up and down Sam’s cock. Sam made anguished whimpers as Dean stroked him over and over. “Dean…I don’t want to come yet!”

“Shhhh.” Dean shushed him and then covered Sam’s mouth with his own. He loved the way Sam felt, the way his brother’s body was responding to his touch.

Sam moaned and lay back so Dean had easier access. Dean felt his brother tensing and then his cock stiffened even more in Dean’s grasp. “Dean! I’m coming! Oh fuck!”

Sam bucked against Dean, thrusting up into his hand, hot cum spurting from his cock as he spasmed with pleasure. Dean thought he had never felt or heard a beautiful thing; the sound of that ‘fuck’ dropping so carelessly from Sam’s lips spurred him on even more. He wished he could see his brother’s face.

“Fuck, Sammy. You feel so good.” Dean groaned. “Can I fuck you?”

Sam mewled. “D-Dean!”

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, Sammy.” Dean panted. He reached down to grab his own needy cock.

“Dean,” Sam whined. “I want you to…but- will it hurt?”

“Shhhh.” Dean soothed. “No, I’ll take it slow and you tell me to stop if you need me to.”

“Okay, Dean.” Sam whispered.

Dean wished more than ever that he could turn on the light. But he was afraid if he did then Sam would want him to stop. “I wish I could see you, Sammy.” Dean tugged at Sam’s boxers, and Sam lifted his hips so Dean could ease them off.

“Dean…” Sam moaned.

“Can I turn on the light?” Dean asked gently.

“I-” Sam hesitated.

“It’s okay, Sammy. We don’t need to.” Dean said quickly. “Turn over.”

Sam shifted and the bed creaked as he flipped onto his stomach. Dean could sense Sam’s anxiety, and shushed him, stroking his shoulders and back. When he felt his brother relaxing, he scooted lower on the bed and reached over to palm Sam’s ass with both hands. He squeezed him gently, and then caressed him. Dean remembered the small bottle of lube inside his duffel.

“Sammy, I gotta get the lube.” Dean groaned.

Dean hopped off the bed and grabbed the bag on the floor. He brought it into the bathroom and closed the door before flipping on the light switch so he could look into his bag. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his eyes wild and his mouth red and wet, his hair disheveled. He looked wrecked; exactly the way he felt. He took his pajamas off and kicked them into the corner of the bathroom. Then he got the lube out and opened the door.

The light from the bathroom spilled across the bed, so Dean could see his brother where he was waiting. Sam was on his hands and knees, his back arched so his ass was in the air. He had taken his shirt off, so now he was completely naked. Dean thought his brother was so lean and toned and beautiful. Sam looked at Dean with desperation and need.

“Fuck!” Dean gasped.

He shut the light and walked over to climb onto the bed behind Sam. Dean palmed Sam’s ass cheeks and spread him open with his hands. He felt his brother tensing again.

“It’s ok, Sammy.” Dean murmured. “If you want to stop now, let me know.”

“No, Dean. I want- I want you to.” Sam begged.

Dean found the bottle and squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers. He held Sam open with one hand and then pushed one slick finger against Sam’s pucker. Sam tensed again and Dean shushed him. He pressed in a little more and Sam hitched his breath.

“Breathe Sammy.” Dean instructed gently, and he pushed in more when he heard and felt Sam exhale.

He slowly worked his finger in deeper with a couple more of Sam’s breaths. He stopped and let Sam get used to having him inside and then tentatively moved his finger back and forth.

“Oh!” Sam moaned.

“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked softly.

“Yes. It feels…different. But good. Please keep going, Dean…” Sam panted.

Dean’s breathing grew ragged as he continued to pushing his finger in and out of Sam’s tight hole. He felt Sam’s inner muscles clamping down on his finger and groaned. He added a second finger, again gradually pushing into Sam.

“Go faster- I can take it.” Sam moaned when Dean added a third finger. “Fuck me with your fingers.”

“Jesus.” Dean gasped. He started thrusting his hand in and out of Sam’s opening, groaning as Sam pushed back.

“I want it, Dean.” Sam begged, his voice sounding wrecked. “Fuck me.”

“Oh God, Sammy…” Dean moaned.

Dean pulled his hand out and then poured lube onto his cock, slicking himself with his hand. He couldn’t believe he was the one who would take Sam’s virginity. He let the tip of his cock touch Sam’s opening.

“You’re absolutely sure, Sammy?” Dean asked one more time.

“Just do it, Dean.” Sam gritted.

Dean pushed inside of Sam, both of them crying out as Dean stretched Sam wide with his cock. Dean closed his eyes, gasping at the tight heat inside Sam. He pushed in steadily until he bottomed out, groaning at the pleasure. Sam was keening and writhing under him.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Sammy.” Dean praised, letting his palms rest on Sam’s ass. Sam whimpered in response, and Dean started thrusting.

“I won’t break, Dean.” Sam gasped.

“Fuck!” Dean groaned as he thrust faster, his hips slapping against Sam’s ass, his fingers digging into his skin. He wasn’t going to last long; he reached down to grasp Sam’s cock and stroked it roughly.

“Sam…Sammy…Fuck…fuck!!!!” Dean cried out as he came, his hips stuttering and then slamming erratically into Sam. He emptied his cum deep inside of Sam, still stroking his brother as he spasmed.

“Dean!!” Sam choked out, just before he started bucking hard against Dean, coming for a second time, his cum spurting onto the sheets.

Their ragged breathing and moans filled the room as they finished their orgasms in tandem. Dean rolled off of Sam as his cock softened, and lay back, spent and happy. Sam had collapsed onto his stomach. They turned to look at each other.

“I love you, Dean.” Sam murmured.

“I love you, Sammy.” Dean nodded, already feeling the post-coital drowsiness overtaking him. He closed his eyes. He heard Sam getting off the bed and going into the bathroom, and then he drifted off.

…

Dean woke up in an empty bed. He was still naked and he winced as he realized he hadn’t cleaned himself up before he fell asleep. He really needed a shower.

“Sammy?” Dean called, wondering if his brother was in the bathroom.

Maybe Sam had gone to get some coffee from the diner down the street. There was no response, so Dean got up and went into the bathroom, turning the shower on before he took a piss. He got under the steaming hot spray, scrubbing himself vigorously. Dean finished up and grabbed a towel, sighing with contentment as he dried himself off. He tied the towel around his waist and picked up his bag, which he was still in the bathroom from last night, and went back into the bedroom.

He was dressed now and rubbing a towel through his hair when he noticed the Bible on the nightstand. It was one of the Gideon versions that was always found in hotels and motels; one time Sam had told Dean why and how they got there, but Dean couldn’t quite remember the reasons anymore. There was a piece of white paper sticking out of the book, and Dean opened it to the page, his eyes noting that it was open to Leviticus 18:6, the passage that condemned incest. Dean couldn’t believe that Sam was making him look at this part of the Bible. Sam was the one that had begged him; Dean had asked him if he needed to stop at every step. He unfolded the piece of paper. It was a note from Sam. As Dean read, his heart sank and he felt a deep sense of betrayal.

_Dean,_

_What we did last night was a mistake. A terrible sin._  
_I will be going to confession and I suggest you do the same. It was wrong, and we were weak and gave into temptation._  
_I am sorry I didn’t stop you._

_-Sam_

_PS I bought myself a bus ticket and will be heading back to Bobby’s today._

Dean roared and ripped up the paper, and then hurled the Bible against the wall. He was so angry. How could Sam think that what they had done was a mistake? It felt so pure to Dean. He loved his brother, he would never hurt him. But now Sam thought he was a mistake.  
Dean was alone again.


	8. Estrangement - April 2009

Dean was surprised to get the postcard. It was a snapshot of the old town center, and on the back in Sam’s neat penmanship was a short note.

_I forgive you, Dean._

_-Sam_

Dean scoffed and tossed the postcard into his pile of junk mail to be recycled. Sam still thought he needed his forgiveness now. Dean had been estranged from his brother for almost seven years now. After that fateful night in the motel room, Sam had tried to convince Dean to back to the church. Dean told Sam he was being ridiculous and said he would never ever go back to the church, and that he hated God for taking away their mother. Sam accused him of blasphemy and told Dean not to bother talking to him again until he became a good Catholic again. Dean told Sam he would be waiting until hell froze over. They didn’t talk again for over a year.

Sam went to Stanford and had no trouble adapting to his life there. Dean still spoke with Bobby occasionally to keep tabs on John’s health and to make sure Sam was okay. Dean had gotten Sam’s address from Bobby and tried sending Sam a check for him to use on textbooks, but Sam never cashed it. Through Bobby, Dean found out that his brother had a girlfriend now. Dean wondered if Sam was in love like he wanted to be. Dean went on with his life, and even found someone to share his bed. His name was Jared, and he was a couple of years older than Dean. He reminded Dean of Sam, at least in appearance and height. But the similarities ended there; Jared was an atheist like Dean and he was a drinker and a smoker. Dean had been tending bar, now at a different restaurant, and Jared had just boldly came on to him and asked him to go home with him. Dean had no good reason to refuse, and he liked the way Jared looked. It had been a few months now, and Dean and Jared saw each other regularly. They weren’t quite dating, but they also weren’t completely casual. Dean didn’t want to commit, but he knew that Jared had been dropping hints about moving in together – ‘to save money and make it easier to get together’. Eventually Jared moved on, tired of waiting for Dean, and Dean was alone again. He preferred it this way.

And then 9/11 happened, and Dean needed to talk to Sam, wanted to hear his brother’s voice. Forget everything from before, they would start over, never talk about it again. He called Sam frantically after he heard about the two towers, and Sam had picked up right away. They were both teary as they thought about the people that had been lost that day. They were both lucky enough to not be affected directly, but they knew people that had lost someone; a classmate’s cousin who was in the second tower, a co-worker who had a childhood friend on one of the planes. There was no mention of what had happened the previous summer. The brothers exchanged emails regularly for a while after that, and then Sam called Dean and told him that after 9/11, he had reevaluated a lot of things and that he had decided to go to seminary school. Dean had been shocked and laughed at first. He couldn’t imagine Sam becoming a priest. His view of priests was that they were old, doddering men who were stuck in the middle ages. Sam had been offended and then told Dean that he needed to be saved. Dean had felt the old anger rising and told Sam that he didn’t want to talk about that again. Sam told him that he needed to find God, and Dean hung up in a huff.

After that, they didn’t talk for years. Not directly at least. Through Bobby they checked on each other, driving their uncle crazy. He wished that ‘you idjits would just kiss and make up’, not realizing that was a poor choice of words. But both Dean and Sam were stubborn and neither wanted to give in first. Dean only felt the vaguest sense of guilt when he heard that Sam went home to visit every Christmas. By now John had moved in with Bobby; he had been unable to keep up with the house, and that way Bobby could monitor his drinking. Dean and John did finally speak after 9/11, but the promises to reconcile never amounted to anything. Dean hadn’t been back since Sam’s graduation. The years stretched on and Dean eventually moved out to California, ending up in San Diego. He settled down in Pacific Beach, tending bar for the college crowd. On his days off, he learned to surf and spent his time off chasing waves along the coast. He thought about Sam often, wondering if his brother thought about him.

Dean sifted through the rest of the mail but it was all junk, and he added it to the recycle pile. He went into his bedroom and noticed a blinking light on his answering machine indicating he had unheard messages. He pressed the button and started taking his clothes off, eager to get into his pajamas after a long day at work.

“Dean, this is Bobby. I’m guessing your idjit brother didn’t tell you, but he was just appointed parish priest for Sacred Heart. Father Maynard is retiring and Sam requested the position. I guess we should call him ‘Father’ now and I supposed I should stop calling him an idjit, but I ain’t Catholic, and he’s always gonna be little Sammy to me. Anyways. I just thought you should know.”

Dean stood in his boxers, shocked at the news. He had to replay the message a few more times before it really sank in. Sam was a priest. Yes, he had known through Bobby that Sam had finished his seminary, and had served in a parish in a neighboring town and been ordained. But the idea of Sam becoming the parish priest in the church that they had gone to as kids; Dean had difficulty wrapping his mind around it. It was easier to think of Sam working somewhere unfamiliar, not the place they had both been baptized and received communion and confirmation. Dean sat down heavily on the bed. He really wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Sam had always been more enthusiastic about his faith than anyone else Dean had known. But the idea of Sam in seminary had always been abstract, especially since Dean hadn’t seen his brother for years. Dean reached for the bottle on his nightstand and uncapped it. He slugged back a few fingers of Jack, barely feeling the burn down his throat. The warm buzz from the liquor in his stomach spread and he relaxed. A few more swigs and he was almost ready to call Sam.

Did he even have Sam’s number? Dean fumbled for his cell phone. He just had a basic flip phone, and he pressed the down button until he found Sam’s cell number. He wondered if it was still the same number as back in 2002 when they had last talked. Dean had transferred the number every time he had switched to a new phone, but had never dialed it. He should check it with Bobby but he knew better than to call his uncle when he was drunk. Bobby could always tell if Dean had been at the bottle. Dean took another swallow of whiskey and then pressed the call button. He heard the call go through, the ringing tone sounding once, twice, three, four times and Dean braced for the voice mail to click on, wondering if he should even bother leaving one.

“Hello?” Sam’s voice asked.

Dean almost lost his nerve and hung up. Hearing Sam’s voice always triggered so many memories. His brother was almost 26 now but Dean still heard the little boy in the man’s voice.

“Sam.” Dean rasped, his voice rough with emotion.

He heard an intake of breath and then, “Dean?”

“Yeah.” Dean answered. “How are you, Sammy?”

He heard a sigh. “Good. Good, Dean. How are you?”

“I’m…ok.” Dean said, even though he wasn’t. He thought about ending the call now. Instead he forced himself to ask. “Um. Father Winchester?”

“Yes. I am.” Sam said simply, although there was a defensive tone in his voice. “You don’t need to call me that.”

“Ok.” Dean said. Now ‘daddy kink’ had a whole new meaning, he almost added, but he figured Sam wouldn’t appreciate it. “Well. Um..congratulations.”

“Thanks Dean.” Sam replied. There was a beat of silence, and then Sam spoke again. “So, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just wanna to say hi to my bro.” Dean said lightly.

“Right.” Sam said. “It’s been seven years, Dean!” Sam added, and Dean heard the hurt in his voice.

“You could have called me too.” Dean said flatly. “Don’t they teach you forgiveness in seminary? Isn’t that the point of religion?”

“I do forgive you!” Sam said, his voice rising.

“You sent me a fucking postcard, Sammy.” Dean said angrily. “A fucking postcard after seven years! And I have to hear from Bobby that you’re the priest at Sacred Heart now?”

“I didn’t know if you even wanted to talk to me!” Sam shot back.

“Jesus.” Dean said scornfully. “Oh, sorry. Guess I shouldn’t be saying that in front of a priest.”

“I’m a priest, Dean. I’m still human.” Sam said quietly, choosing to ignore Dean’s sarcastic tone.

“Well, you may forgive me. But I don’t forgive you.” Dean said harshly. “You broke my heart. You told me I was a mistake.” Dean couldn’t help dredging up the past. It was always there in the back of his mind. He still loved Sam, no matter what. He couldn’t help it if that love was more than brotherly. Sam was the one for him.

“Dean..” Sam started to say.

“No, I know you don’t want to talk about this.” Dean interrupted, he could feel tears pricking his eyes now and he had to hang up before he started choking up. “I just wanted to congratulate you. And I did. Guess I could have just sent a postcard.”

“Dean…” Sam repeated.

Dean hung up the phone, snapping it shut and throwing it. It bounced harmlessly on the carpet. Dean let himself sob.


	9. Confession - April 2009

 

Dean was parked across the street. He stepped out of the car and leaned against the Impala and looked up at the church. Their family’s church, and now Sam’s church. Literally. Dean couldn’t imagine it, even though Bobby and Sam had confirmed it. Dean hadn’t told anyone he was coming home. It was early evening in April, and the light was changing as the sun sank down below the buildings. Dean took a breath, checked his watch. Confession was taken between 5 and 7 on Tuesdays. It was a Tuesday.

Dean crossed the street, feeling more anxious with every step. He wondered if he even remembered the words. He pushed the door open, his eyes adjusting to the dimness, the light from the windows subdued now that it was sunset, and the candelabras at the front providing minimal lighting.

The confessional booth was to the side, in the corner apse. Dean remembered going when he was younger. He confessed the most benign and mundane sins; coveting his brother’s stuff, having impure thoughts about a girl at school, talking back to his father. Now the sins were so much heavier, and he hadn’t been to confession since his mother had passed. And now he was going to confront Sam in the confessional. He wasn’t repentant at all.

Sam was behind the door on the side for the priest, and Dean couldn’t see him through the grid, but assumed he was there. Dean whisked the curtain aside and sat in the side intended for the confessor. Suddenly he felt like his heart was in his mouth. The shutter behind the screen slid open and Dean could just make out the outline of Sam’s head on the other side of the screen. Dean made the sign of the cross.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.” Dean murmured. The words came back from the recesses of his mind. “It has been almost twenty years since my last confession.”

Dean heard a cough behind the screen. “What do you wish to confess?” Sam’s voice was tentative. If he recognized Dean’s voice, he didn’t say anything. But then again, the whole point was for confession to be anonymous, wasn’t it?

“I wish to confess my sins.” Dean said. “I love my brother.”

“We should always have love for our siblings.” Sam answered uncertainly.

“No, Father. I am _in love_ with my brother.” Dean said defiantly. There, he said it.  
He heard a sharp intake of breath behind the screen but Sam’s voice was level when he answered. “How long have you been ‘in love’ with your brother?”

“I realized it 8 years ago, but I think I always loved him that way.” Dean whispered.

“Have you-“ And here Sam hesitated before continuing, “ever acted on this ‘love’ you’ve held for your brother?”

“Yes.” Dean whispered. “But he…he didn’t want to be with me. He said it was a sin. It was a mistake.” Dean had tried so hard to stay impassive, but now his throat tightened as he recalled the morning he found that note.

“Your…brother was right. You must not think of him that way anymore.” Sam replied, his voice thick. “Pray to God for guidance. He will show you the way. Return to church.”

“I-I cannot.” Dean gasped. He didn’t want to cry in front of Sam. “I think of him. I think of him in the most impure ways, Father.” Dean heard Sam’s breath hitch and continued. “I think of putting my lips on him, all over his-”

“I do not need to know all the details of your sin.” Sam interrupted hastily. He sounded upset.  
Instead of feeling triumph that he had finally rattled his brother, Dean felt guilt and shame. This was what he had set out to do; to tell Sam that he still felt that way, to get a reaction out of him.

“I’m sorry, Sam.” Dean whispered.

“I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” Sam said abruptly. He slid the shutter closed.

“Sam!” Dean cried. He couldn’t believe that Sam was shutting him out again. He got up and swept past the curtain, with the intention of banging on the confessional door. But then he noticed there were a couple of other parishioners in the church. They were probably waiting to give confession. Dean spoke against the grid softly. “I’ll come back.”

There was no response and Dean gave a tight smile as he passed a middle aged woman and an elderly man. If they recognized Dean, they didn’t show any sign of it. Dean barely saw them.

…

Dean sat in the Impala, still parked across the street. He saw the woman exit the church, and then the man. The clock read 6:47, and Dean doubted anyone else would be rushing into confession. He got out of the car and went inside again. Sam was at the front of the church, dousing the flames on one of the candelabras. Dean was struck by how tall and elegant his brother looked in his priest’s garb. He was surprised that Sam still wore his hair long.

“Sam.” Dean said when he was a few steps behind Sam. Sam whirled around, still wearing the purple stole and white surplice that was required when hearing confession.

“Dean, you shouldn’t be here.” Sam said, turning back to the candles.

“I needed to see you.” Dean said plainly.

“You came here to tempt me.” Sam murmured, his back to Dean. “It won’t work. With God’s help I am free of the need for earthly pleasures.”

“Sam.” Dean said. “Look at me.”

Sam turned slowly, and their eyes caught. Dean could see the pain in Sam’s eyes despite his words. His brother’s ever changing eyes were almost aquamarine, with flecks of brown. Dean’s gaze was drawn to Sam’s mouth. His brother’s face was sharper now, the softer edges of his youth completely gone and replaced by more chiseled features.

“Dean.” Sam said quietly. “I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” Dean said angrily. “I haven’t asked you for anything.”

“You don’t have to say it. I see it in your eyes.” Sam whispered. He walked towards the back of the church, towards the vestry.

“Sam!” Dean reached out and grabbed a corner of Sam’s surplice. Sam turned around and looked at Dean. “Let go.”

“Just hear me out.” Dean begged. He let go of Sam.

Sam sighed and pushed into the vestry and Dean caught the door before it closed. He hadn’t been inside the vestry since he had been an altar boy for Father Maynard. It still smelled the same - like old books and incense, and even though he no longer believed, he still remembered how he had been in awe of the rituals, and the honor he felt when he was part of the procession at the beginning of each mass. Sam removed his stole and carefully hung it up, and then removed the surplice and also put it away meticulously. Dean saw that Sam was in a cassock underneath; the long buttoned outfit was extremely flattering to Sam’s frame, and made him seem even taller. If he wasn’t so struck by Sam’s appearance, he might have made fun of him for wearing a “dress”. Dean’s eye was drawn to the white collar at Sam’s neck. The irony was that while Sam had chosen a celibate life, his priestly vestments made him more irresistible. Dean was pretty sure if he hadn’t had a priest kink before, he definitely had one now. Sam closed the cabinet where he had hung his vestments and then gestured for Dean to follow him through another door that led to the rectory where Father Maynard lived. _Father Winchester_ , Dean corrected himself.

The apartment was small but cozy, with the same furniture that Father Maynard had owned. The TV was updated though, and Dean saw Sam’s laptop on the coffee table. Through the window the sky had already turned indigo. A couple of family portraits stood on the mantel – including the one of the Winchesters in happier times. Dean also saw that Sam had framed a copy of the picture of Sam and Dean at Cadillac Ranch; Dean wondered how Sam could see it there and not be reminded of the last time they had seen each other. Dean picked it up.

“I’m surprised you keep this on display.” Dean commented.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Sam shrugged.

“Because of what happened during that same trip.” Dean said. He fingered the edges of the metal frame.

“I can’t talk about that.” Sam said, his voice sounding strangled. He looked away from Dean, standing in front of the couch and facing the window.

“We have to.” Dean said. He replaced the picture on the mantel and went up to Sam. He touched his brother’s shoulder tentatively.

“Dean…” Sam said. “Please don’t.” He didn’t turn around.

“But we never really talked about it, Sam.” Dean continued. “How does it feel, when you dispense God’s forgiveness, and your own brother doesn’t forgive you?”

“God forgives me.” Sam said weakly.

Dean scoffed but didn’t say anything else. He dropped his hand and sank down into the sagging armchair. Sam turned around. He scrubbed his face with one hand, and then sat heavily on the adjacent couch, his palms on his knees.

Dean stared at Sam, but Sam kept his eyes on the carpet. Dean sighed heavily. “This is a waste of time, I should go.” Dean muttered. He stood up.

Sam finally looked up at Dean. Dean was startled to see tears. Dean sat down on the coffee table in front of his brother and grabbed his hands. The movement was automatic, without thought; even though they were both adults now and Sam was a priest, nothing could overpower Dean’s instinct to comfort his brother. The tears triggered the protective feelings in Dean’s chest. Sam’s hands were soft and smooth, unlike Dean’s calloused, work roughened ones.

“Sammy, tell me what’s wrong.” Dean said softly.

“I’m a fraud.” Sam gasped, the tears still coming. Dean squeezed Sam’s hands, running his thumbs over Sam’s knuckles.

“No, Sam.” Dean said firmly.

“But I am!” Sam said furiously. He tugged his hands free from Dean’s grasp. He rested his head in his hands, the long strands of his hair falling forward like a curtain. “You don’t know.”

“You’re a good person, Sam.” Dean said.

Sam looked up sharply. “Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not, Sammy.” Dean whispered. He put his palm on Sam’s cheek, and Sam didn’t jerk away. He leaned into Dean’s hand and closed his eyes. “I’ve missed you.” Dean said the words for both of them. “I love you.”

Sam opened his eyes and Dean dropped his palm. He had stopped crying but his eyes were wet again. Dean saw the desperation and pain in his brother’s eyes and understood that Sam had never stopped loving him. Dean barely dared to breathe, he didn’t want to break the spell.

“I prayed every night.” Sam said in a whisper. “I prayed that I would stop thinking of you that way. I thought that being apart would make it better. Then I thought if I devoted myself to God, and serving him, that I would be saved.”

Dean kept his eyes on Sam’s face, but didn’t move or speak.

“I went to confession every week. The priest always had the same things to say; that I needed to be strong, pray to God for guidance, that God would show me the way.” Sam continued. He sucked in a shaky breath, and looked away from Dean. “But God has forsaken me. I can’t stop the impure thoughts. But at least when you were hundreds of miles away, I was able to keep those feelings inside, where they became a dull ache and a bittersweet dream.”

“You’re a fuckin’ poet, Sammy.” Dean rasped. He was trying to lighten the mood, but instead he choked on the lump in his throat.

Sam raised his eyes to Dean’s face. “But here you are, in front of me. I fear I am too weak, and God has forsaken me.”

“No, Sammy. You’re the strongest person I know.” Dean whispered. Their faces were so close, Dean only had to lean in slightly and he could kiss Sam. He held himself back though. He wanted Sam to decide. It hadn’t been his original intention when he came to see Sam. But now he knew. If Sam rejected him again, it would be the last time.

“You’re wrong.” Sam said. His glance darted to Dean’s lips and he bit his lip. “You are the strongest, Dean.”

Dean shook his head. He should move his hand, sit back, stand up, put some space between himself and Sam. But he felt frozen and pinned in place by Sam’s dark gaze. They looked at each other for a beat without speaking.

“I…should go, Sam.” Dean said, his voice husky. But he didn’t move. Sam leaned forward almost imperceptibly, and Dean couldn’t help but be drawn closer too. Dean could feel the puff of Sam’s breath and knew they were too close.

“Forgive me.” Sam breathed and closed his eyes.

Sam let his lips brush Dean’s mouth. It was the most chaste and light of touches, but still, it ignited a fire in both of them. Dean needed no other signal to surge forward and capture Sam’s lips with his own. He pressed his brother into the couch, his knees balanced on the edge on either side of Sam’s legs. And Sam responded without protest, his arms automatically reaching around Dean’s back to draw him closer, so Dean straddled him. Their kisses were desperate, aching, full of the knowledge of all the lost years and estrangement. But they were careful kisses too, not violently passionate like those of reunited lovers, but tender and soft, like first time lovers mapping the shape of each others’ mouths. Dean felt tears on Sam’s cheeks as he traced Sam’s forehead and nose with his lips.

“Sammy.” Dean said, looking at his brother with concern. Sam kept his eyes closed.

“Don’t speak, Dean…” Sam gasped. “I can’t…”

“Shhh.” Dean shushed him with a kiss on his mouth.

Dean tentatively reached for the white collar, feeling slightly blasphemous as he felt the fabric between his fingers. He felt the stubble of Sam’s five o’clock shadow under his hand. He stood, and Sam still had his eyes closed. Dean closed the curtains and shut off the light. He knew this would be easier for Sam in the dark, just as it had been the other time. Sam was a dim silhouette, outlined by the light from the street that still bled in through the flimsy curtains.

“I need you to tell me if this is okay, Sammy.” Dean said quietly, still standing. “If you tell me to leave now, I will.”

Sam blew out a breath. Dean saw his brother nod. Dean took Sam by the hand and pulled him up so they stood facing each other. Dean had to lift his head up to kiss Sam. Sam broke the kiss and grabbed Dean’s hand, pulling him towards the bedroom.

There was no need for words at this point. The curtains were half drawn in the room, and Dean could see Sam by the streetlight that slanted through the window. Sam reached his hand toward the top button on his cassock, and started unfastening them, moving down the long line. Dean put a hand on his brother’s hand, stopping him. It was profane for Dean to touch Sam’s clothing this way, but Sam’s willingness to let him signaled his wordless permission for Dean to continue. Dean took his time undoing the buttons, until finally he reached the end and the clothing slipped off of Sam’s shoulders. Underneath, Sam was wearing pants and a t-shirt. The rabat that held the white collar sat on top of his t-shirt. Dean knelt in front of his brother, reaching up for Sam’s belt. Sam grabbed Dean’s wrist, and pulled his brother up. He put Dean’s hand to his collar. _Remove this first_ , were the unspoken words. _Strip me of me of the trappings of my station, so I am naked as an ordinary man._

Dean grasped the collar, and unfastened it. Sam let out a sigh. Dean placed it reverently on the bedside table. Sam sat on the bed and Dean pulled the t-shirt out of Sam’s waistband, grasping the hem and pulling it over Sam’s head. Dean threw the shirt aside, and then reached for the belt. Sam sucked in a breath but kept his hands to the side as Dean undid it. Sam lifted his hips so Dean could slide the pants down his legs. Dean paused to slip Sam’s shoes and socks off before pulling the pants off the rest of the way. Now Sam was only in his briefs.

Dean could only see the gleam of Sam’s eyes in the dim light. But as it was that night so many years ago, he didn’t dare turn on the light. If he could only have Sam this way, in the dark, he would take it. Dean stayed on the floor, and ran his hands along Sam’s legs, stopping at the juncture of Sam’s groin and thighs. He heard Sam’s breath hitch as he pushed his brother’s legs apart slightly. And then Dean let his breath ghost over Sam’s underwear, letting his lips just graze the front of the briefs. Sam gasped. Dean pressed his mouth against Sam, feeling Sam’s stiffness under his lips through the layer of fabric. Sam let out a soft moan and Dean echoed his moan. The pace was excruciatingly slow, but it was what they needed. Dean mouthed Sam through the fabric, up and down his brother’s rigid length until the briefs were damp with his saliva. Sam’s breathing was ragged when Dean finally slid Sam’s briefs off. And then Dean’s hot wet mouth enveloped Sam, and he couldn’t stop the cry that escaped his lips.

“Dean!” Sam sobbed.

Dean’s answering groan was muffled around Sam’s cock. He bobbed up and down along Sam’s shaft, relishing the salty taste and the weight of Sam in his mouth. Sam moaned and let his hands settle on Dean’s shoulders. One hand reached upward and tugged lightly on Dean’s hair. He gasped as Dean continued to move his mouth on his cock, his tongue swirling along the length and slipping into the slit.

“Don’t…want to…come yet…” Sam groaned. He tried to push Dean’s head away but Dean was relentless. Sam moaned as Dean’s throat opened to let him in, so Sam went deeper.

Dean moaned around his brother’s cock, and Sam’s hands went back in his hair.

“ _Christo…_ ” Sam gasped out as he came, finally allowing his himself to thrust into Dean’s mouth. “ _Dimitte me_.”

The words went straight to Dean's cock; the blasphemy they were committing only made Dean harder. Dean swallowed Sam’s cum readily, letting his brother fuck into his throat until he finished his orgasm. Sam released Dean from his grip and Dean pulled away. Sam let himself fall back onto the bed, and lay on his back, still catching his breath. Dean wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He stood up and removed his clothes swiftly. His cock was aching and hard for Sam. Sam had one arm slung across his eyes, and Dean climbed onto the bed next to his brother. Dean lifted Sam’s arm gently, and then rolled partway on top of him. He kissed Sam hard, the taste of his brother’s cum still in his mouth.

Sam moaned as Dean’s tongue slipped between his lips, and Dean crushed their mouths together and Sam wrapped his arms around his brother’s back, pulling him closer. Dean groaned as Sam reached down to grip his cock, letting his palm slide up and down the shaft.

“I am yours.” Sam whispered.

“And I am yours.” Dean panted. Sam let go of Dean and rolled away and onto his stomach. He raised himself onto his hands and knees; an echo of how Dean had taken him that first and only time. Dean wondered what to do for lubricant.

“The drawer.” Sam murmured. Dean got off the bed to look in the nightstand. He opened the drawer and felt around until his hand closed around a bottle. He was surprised that Sam even had it, but now was not the time to ask his brother. But Sam answered his unspoken question. “Yes I still jerk off,” he said defensively. “It’s a lesser sin than…” Sam left the sentence unfinished.

“We can still stop,” Dean said, even though his cock was throbbing.

“No,” Sam said firmly.

Dean climbed onto the bed behind Sam, and covered his palms with lube, slicking up the fingers on his right hand. He spread Sam with one hand, and then let the tip of his index finger touch his brother’s opening. When Sam didn’t protest, Dean pressed inside, drawing a hiss from his brother. Sam moaned as Dean steadily pushed his finger in, up to the knuckle. Dean moved his finger in and out slowly, but Sam pushed back on his hand.

“There’s never been anyone else.” Sam gasped as Dean added another finger, and continued to thrust his hand back and forth. Dean groaned at the way Sam was bearing down on his hand, so hungry for his fingers.

“Sammy…” Dean panted. He couldn’t say the same for himself. There had been others; Jared had stayed the longest. Instead Dean offered the truth. “I’ve never loved anyone else. Never.” He continued to fuck Sam with his hand.

“Dean, just fuck me. Please. I have dreamed and agonized about this moment for so long. Please.” Sam begged. He didn’t need to add, _before I change my mind_.

Dean drew his hand away and then added more lube, slicking up his cock and moaning. He braced himself with one hand on Sam’s back. He let the cock head press against Sam’s entrance and Sam pushed back. The head slipped in and then both moaned. Dean pushed in steadily, Sam whimpering and mewling underneath him.

“Sammy. You feel so fucking tight and good.” Dean gasped as he bottomed out.

Sam could only moan in response, but he rocked back on Dean’s cock. Dean started slowly, but Sam continued to push back so Dean started thrusting faster, until they were moving in sync, Dean’s hips moving forward and meeting every backward thrust of Sam’s hips, Dean’s balls smacking against Sam’s ass. Dean wanted to hold on to this moment as long as he could, but it had been too long since he had been with anyone, and it had been almost a decade with Sam. He held onto Sam’s hips, digging his nails into Sam’s skin. Sam grunted with every snap of Dean’s hips.

“Wanna come with you…” Dean moaned, and reached around Sam’s waist to grasp his cock.

“Dean…” Sam sobbed.

Dean was close to the edge now, but he held himself back as he continued to pump his hand up and down Sam’s cock. A moment later Sam was coming, fucking into Dean’s grasp. Sam keened as he came, clenching hard around Dean’s cock. The tight pressure from Sam’s muscles sent Dean over the edge. Dean’s hips stuttered, and he held himself still for a moment before slamming into Sam and emptying himself deep inside his brother.

They rocked together as they rode their orgasms, and finally Sam let himself collapse onto the bed, Dean’s body resting on top of his. Dean rolled off of his brother, still panting. He slung an arm over Sam, his hand reaching up to tangle in Sam’s hair. After a moment, Sam lifted his head and faced Dean.

“I love you.” Sam whispered.

“I love you too, Sammy.” Dean answered softly.

Dean stroked Sam’s hair. He leaned forward and kissed his brother on the forehead. Sam shifted so he was on his side and then curled up next to Dean, nestling his head in the crook of Dean’s neck, even though he was taller. Dean heard Sam’s breathing deepen and then settle into the rhythm of sleep. Dean was wide awake; his heart was so full, but also so heavy. What would the morning bring? Would Sam say he was a mistake again?

…

This time, Dean was the one who left. He waited until Sam was in a deep sleep, and then disentangled himself. He went to the bathroom and then dressed quickly, and then went into the kitchen area of Sam’s small apartment. He snapped on the light, blinking against the glare. He rummaged through the drawer for a pen, and then grabbed a sheet of paper off the magnetic notepad on the fridge.

_Sammy,_

_I love you, and I will never stop loving you._  
_But I won’t force you to leave the church._  
_I leave it to you._  
_I only want you to be happy, even if it means I am not part of your life._

 _Always,_  
_Dean_

Dean left the note on the kitchen table. He shut the light off, and then left the apartment silently, closing the door with the softest of clicks. 

 


	10. Forgiveness - August 2009

Dean was walking back to his apartment. He was carrying his surfboard, his wetsuit damp and sandy. As he neared the building, he saw a person sitting on the front stoop outside his door.

“Sammy?” Dean said in disbelief. He dropped his surfboard and it clattered against the pavement noisily.

“Dean.” Sam stood up. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, sneakers on his feet.

“I…” Dean started to say. He was at a loss for words. It had been months since he left that note on Sam’s table. He hadn’t heard from Sam, and trying to come to terms with the fact that Sam had made his choice, and his choice was not Dean.

“I’m sorry.” Sam said. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize where I belong.”

Dean gaped at Sam. He was stunned. He had dreamed of this often, especially in the first few weeks after he left Sam.

“I prayed.” Sam continued. “I confessed and prayed, and it never felt right. I felt so hollow even while I went through the motions. Finally, I had to accept it. You were never the mistake, Dean. I was.”

“Sam..” Dean protested.

“I left the church.” Sam explained. He stepped toward Dean. “I know where I belong now.”

“Where?” Dean said, needing to hear the answer.

“With you.” Sam said simply.

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean, not caring that his brother was damp with seawater and dusted in sand. Dean’s arms went around Sam’s back, and they held each other. Dean let out a sob, burying his face in Sam’s neck. Dean pulled away first, his eyes bright with tears. He smiled at Sam, who also had tears in his eyes. Sam reached in his pocket and pulled something out. He held his hand open to offer it to Dean.

It was Mary’s rosary. Dean clasped Sam’s hand with both hands, pressing the worn beads between their palms. It was the last part of Sam’s apology. Dean let his tears fall, and Sam started crying too.  
Finally, Dean could say the words that Sam had needed to hear.

“I forgive you, Sammy.”


End file.
